


a steady hand

by dreadwoof



Series: Between They And I [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, F/M, a smitten man, and thinks, solas sketches, stolen moments in the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwoof/pseuds/dreadwoof
Summary: He looks for a pencil, before his mind sobers.





	a steady hand

All it took was a slip of his hand.

It starts with a line. Then two, and then a silhouette is drawn beside the words. The blunted charcoal he uses is too rough for her form, with difficulty he maps the edges of her armour, so much that he promises the next time they chance on an Orlesian merchant he will ask for ink.

He reaches for a pencil before his mind sobers. Lips caught between a smile and a sigh. His bloodied gold for this, for another time he accidentally starts sketching this woman in his journal. The thought unlocks a troublesome flutter in his chest, but Solas does not worry. It’s almost gone by the time he finishes shading the abandoned castle of Redcliffe, a dour and depressing thing, specifically meant for his remembrance– _but_ _later, much later –_when there is no need to sketch people, he thinks, as his hand drifts back toward the frighteningly fragile lines in the corner. His fingertips hover over the parchment, pondering if to press and erase. A slight and light silhouette peeking at the corners of his thumb, stuck between his castles and ruins waits for the decision, curiously captivating.

If his hand traces the curve of her just a little too long, well, no one can blame him for it. He is merely the artist, and she the unknowing accomplice. The Deceiver and the Inquisitor.

He wonders for how long he will be let to wander like this, drifting alongside the rest of them. The dwarf of course writes their story, and though he denies it, Solas has taken a peek of it in a couple of his sentences, many recently starting with _‘Our hero…’_ instead of herald. The qunari is fast and brutal as her bodyguard – a necromancer’s magic whisks away a gloomy mood, an uncanny ability of his to create a conversation out of a broken body, and while Sera is… Sera. Even now, she watches with suspicious eyes, whenever his and hers linger too long – when neither shouldn’t – the Red Jenny’s arrow occasionally digging an uncomfortable reminder into his side.

It’s both their fault. It takes no master to realise the want between growing intimacy. The patience she does not possess somehow there in her words. His own, softer than he could believe for himself. Their conversations stopped being about important things a few days. Sleeplessly, he thought about it. On some unconscious level, she must already know. Alone, driven by some desperate trace for familiarity, understanding. And it’s mutual, by some funny chance, to have him seek the same thing back.

Owls begin talking outside. The aged pages of his journal creak as they shut tight. The Fade will be a welcome help.

Solas repeats that religiously, until he glimpses a familiar hand waving at him from a distance.

**Author's Note:**

> The Fade will be welcome, but in the form of a few surprise kisses, stolen by yours truly. Inky xoxo (I know that the Inquisitor willed themselves into Solas' dream, but it wouldn't hurt if the 'willing' into eachother's presence ran both ways. In art form or otherwise.) Thank you so much for reading <3


End file.
